Thinking of You
by PeridotStar
Summary: James Norrington's life is in shambles. He's lost his post, his men, and the woman he loves. He's about to discover that redemption is possible after all, and that what he's truly needed all along is someone in his corner. Constructive criticism wanted and encouraged! OC x James
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone! This story kind of grabbed me by the heartstrings and wouldn't let up. I've gotten around thirty pages of it written so far, but I started in the middle, so I have been filling in gaps on both sides. I finally settled on a beginning I would be fine with not changing, and so that's what this first chapter is.

This story is OC x James Norrington. Keep in mind that this first chapter here starts about the time that we first see young Elizabeth sailing to Port Royal in the movies. The next chapter would be many years in advance. So, nobody freak out in thinking I'm pairing a 12 year old with the lovely James. I must admit that I am not usually a fan of OC romances, and I am a Norribeth shipper, but here is my reason for writing this:

This story was written because I wanted to know what it would be like if James had had someone in his corner exclusively. James never really seems to have this sort of devotion aimed at him in canon, and I thought after everything he'd been through, he deserved something good. Please be a critic and tell me what's good and what's not, and keep in mind that this story can change, and can develop as you influence it. With this long note, let's do our best!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine, and all due credit goes to the creators of POTC.

* * *

Sea birds swooped and called to each other merrily, plucking food from the hands of unsuspecting villagers as they scurried along. Port Royal was truly a little gem of the Caribbean. Mostly safe, likely due to the Naval presence, and exceedingly well-stocked with all manner of goods and trinkets. It was an exceptionally bustling day in port city, with several vessels having made port around the same time. One of these such ships was the merchant-class vessel the _Faodail_.

As the sun glinted off of the vessel's surprisingly well-kept soft green trim, she looked a bit mismatched. Sure, the ship caught the eye of naval-minded folk in each new port she graced, as she was outfitted with offensive weaponry—but it was this outfitting that made her a bit unusual for a supposedly merchant-class ship. Some might have wondered what need prompted the relative abundance of artillery, and perhaps suspected piracy if they had not yet met her jovial and kind captain.

If the _Faodail_ had ever had the fortune, or perhaps _misfortune_ , of drawing alongside the famed pirate ship, _The Black Pearl_ , then one could have noticed that the merchant vessel was perhaps two-thirds the size, and unsurprisingly outgunned by _The Pearl._ However, the _Faodail_ had never come across such a ship, and in the odd case where she couldn't outrun her opponents, the merchant ship's cannons could make one nasty target—no matter about being outgunned.

The _Faodail's_ Captain Murdoch was somewhat of an odd Scotsman, being that he was near universally well-admired. The man was a tactician, and in his thirty years at sea, he'd made more friends than enemies. He considered it his place in the world to ferry goods where they needed to go, and in the meantime take a chunk out of the lawlessness at sea. The captain stood precariously between the Crown and the pirates—giving allegiance to neither side, yet not a threat to either.

Captain Murdoch stroked his long red beard, and moved nimbly down the stairs from the poop deck, keeping a watchful eye on his crew's progress. The crew were unloading the goods they had carried in the hold, each eager to be finished so they could spend their coin in town. He watched a bleating goat be carried topside, and knew of a certain ship occupant who would miss her furry companions.

A smile quickly spread over the Captain's face at the sight of a familiar head of hair bobbing excitedly around the deck. In an unfamiliar flutter of lace and fine cloth, his excitable daughter rushed to perch before him expectantly. This was the first time since his daughter had been but a toddler that he'd seen her in a dress. His Isabella had been raised on this very ship by his side since she was nearly four years old—and seeing her look so fragile in a dress gave him pause. Recalling the circumstances of his daughter's ship-bound life made some of the twinkle leave the man's eyes.

He'd met her mother in the colonies. The woman, hailing from English nobility had looked far too fair and out of place among the other Virginia colony settlers. Yet, there had been a fire in those blue eyes, and he'd fallen hopelessly for her. Captain Murdoch had known he wasn't good enough for her—the mere captain of a ship, and destined to always be traveling. His love hadn't minded, however, and after their first year of marriage, their child was born.

The Murdochs had been happy, _truly_ happy for those five years. However, on a return trip from sailing to England, he had simply arrived to find his wife gone. She'd passed on from a fever that swept through the settlements, they had said. It was such an anticlimactic scene, to find she had been gone for weeks and he hadn't even known! Captain Murdoch had been devastated, and thought surely his daughter must have perished as well. However, by the grace of God, his little girl had survived.

Unable to bear leaving his Isabella in the care of another and chance something happening while he was gone, he simply brought his girl on board. In no time at all, the clever girl had adapted to her surroundings—getting in trouble along the way, and each year she became more and more skilled at survival on the sea. However, there'd been no purposes for dresses on board (since they could prove a fatal hazard when caught in lines, or if she were to go overboard), until this year on her twelfth birthday.

"Papa, please! In all of the stories, the ladies get to wear fancy dresses! I want to wear one when we come to land. Won't you let me be a lady, papa?" His daughter had pleaded in that fashion—and ever susceptible to his daughter's whims, the girl was wearing her new dress for the first time today.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he realized Isabella was still gazing at him expectantly. Looking into the girl's hazel eyes, he knew instantly what she wanted, but decided to see if she would ask in that altogether adorably cunning way of hers.

"Why, hello there, my lady. That is a mighty beautiful dress you're wearing."

The girl's smile was radiant. "Thank you, papa! Although..." At this, Isabella sighed dramatically, "I don't have any coins, so I can't wear my pretty dress around while shopping."

Captain Murdoch laughed heartily, and Isabella's façade cracked into a playful smile. Pulling out a small coin purse he kept for her, he handed it over, "Alright now, you clever thing. Go find you something nice—but remember not to run off too far."

Isabella beamed and picked up her skirts to rush down to the dock. Her skirts were swishing around her legs, and she couldn't help but be enamored with the delicate blue cloth. She touched the matching blue ribbon in her hair and fancied that she must look like a real noble lady. Giggling, she tossed her nose in the air and did her best to walk elegantly like she had imagined the ladies did in her books.

Isabella scanned the market, eager to get something she would really enjoy. She already had her dress, but she thought she could enjoy another reward as well—she'd been such a big help on the ship lately! Papa had even let her call out orders to the crew a few times.

Taking notice of a fruit stand, Isabella quickly decided to use her one coin on an apple. She loved fruit! Exchanging the coin for the apple, she bounced excitedly in place. It wasn't often that she was able to have fresh fruit like this! She hurried back to the dock to admire the other ships while she ate—hoping to learn their names in case she saw them again.

Suddenly, a bird swooped for her prized fruit and she managed to step quickly away, although the distraction caused her to fail to lift her too-long skirt, and she felt herself tripping up in the fabric. With a bit of a yelp, she found herself sprawled on the dock—only looking up in time to see her fallen apple racing over the side and into the harbor.

"Oh no!" She cried, covering her eyes in dismay. Her father didn't approve of wasting coin, and she'd surely wasted hers with her clumsiness. Even worse, she had only been given the one coin.

Suddenly, she heard a voice above her. "Pardon, miss, are you quite all right?" Isabella looked up in shock—she hadn't heard anyone approach. A man stood there, dressed in the blue and white of the royal navy, extending a hand toward her. She looked at it for a moment in shock, before attempting a smile, embarrassed, as she accepted his offer.

The man helped her up. "Um, I'm okay. Thank you, sir." She tried a curtsy like she had seen other women doing during their travels, but she knew immediately that it wasn't very graceful, and her cheeks started to burn, yet the man made no comment.

The man looked at her a moment as if making a decision, and then said, "I couldn't help but notice that you lost your apple, Miss…?"

Isabella colored further at the thought that he had seen her mishap. "Ah, Murdoch, sir. Isabella Murdoch. That's right, I just bought it from the market."

Nodding decisively, the man extended his arm for the young girl. "Very well then, Miss Murdoch. I'm Lieutenant Norrington of the King's Royal Navy. If you would give me the honor, I would quite like to make sure you are able to enjoy an apple today, free from harassment of the birds. It is the Crown's utmost priority to help ladies in distress." Isabella thought she saw a humorous smile on the man's face, but it was difficult to tell with his serious demeanor.

Giggling a bit to herself at the dramatic chivalrous flair that Lieutenant Norrington was giving to the situation, she accepted his arm. On the way to the market, Isabella surreptitiously studied the lieutenant from the corner of her eye. He had a very clean face, and the dark hair tied at the nape of his neck looked well cared for. Isabella fancied that this was how all real gentleman were supposed to look!

Once at the fruit stall, Norrington let her choose another apple and then swiftly polished it on his coat before reaching for a small knife at his hip. With a flourish, he cut the apple in two and handed her both halves. "I hope you don't mind, I find it's easier to eat this way." He said with a slight smile.

Isabella bit into half of the apple gratefully. All of her father's crew were friendly, respectable types—her father refused to bring men on board that could cause a problem for his young daughter. Yet, she had never met someone like the lieutenant—so straight-laced and serious. Isabella absently wondered if he was like this all of the time, and if he was married. Isabella nodded to herself decisively: if she ever married, it would have to be someone just as nice, handsome, and gentlemanly as the lieutenant!

The lieutenant had walked her back to the dock as she finished her apple, and with a cheerful wave, she bid him a good day. Quickly, she gathered up her skirts and set off at a run for the _Faodail_. She simply _must_ tell her father about the handsome lieutenant!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I struggled in writing this chapter. I would love any feedback you may have on what I could improve, what you'd like to see, and what you've enjoyed so far. As always, I own nothing you recognize, and probably far less than that :)**

 **NOTE: An earlier version of this chapter ended with them getting on _The Black Pearl_. I thought about this over and over, since it went against my original plan. Since a lot of what I've written depends on them not boarding with Jack and Elizabeth, I have changed the last paragraph. No need to read this chapter again if you already have, I'll just post the new addition into the next as well. The paragraph that was deleted was: **

**"It suddenly looked very much like Elizabeth and Norrington would be boarding _The Black Pearl_ , and Isabella bit her lip in thought. Ignoring Elizabeth and Jack admiring a strange compass, Isabella bargained with one Mr. Gibbs and joined the pirate crew.**

 **Her father would kill her."**

* * *

It had been almost eight years since the day Isabella had gotten to show off her new dress in Port Royal, and _still_ every time that they made port there again, Captain Murdoch acted as if he expected his daughter to elope with any of the Navy men that dared give her a glance.

Oh yes, she had come back waxing lyrical, in the way of all children who suddenly know how the world will be, about the dashing lieutenant and how she absolutely _must_ marry a man in the Navy someday.

Even now, as the _Faodail's_ crew glided smoothly into Port Royal's harbor, Captain Murdoch was uncharacteristically twisting his hat in his hands, and looking for all the world like Port Royal held his death sentence—and not simply supplies and coin from their latest cargo.

Isabella noticed her father's distress, how could she not, and with a bit of an amused eye roll, she decided to try and set him at ease.

"Papa, you look troubled." Isabella said with a quirk of her lips. She reached out and attached herself to his arm affectionately. "Is this about the Navy? Still?"

Captain Murdoch looked uncomfortable. "Well, lass, you're nearly twenty years…and I know that young women might like to settle down, I know you don't want to be on the ship with me forever, and…"

Isabella couldn't help herself and laughed. "Papa! I'm not going anywhere, not yet at least. I love sailing with you, you know that. Besides, I'm not just going to randomly meet someone and jump ship. I was _twelve!_ All young girls let their minds get ahead of them at that age."

Murdoch looked as if he had just realized he was being foolish, although he thought the girl still _did_ let her mind get ahead of her. With a slight grin he put his arm around his daughter and said, "Well, you _are_ right. We're only here for a day or so, and I'm sure I can I put the respect of the Lord in any young men until we set sail."

Isabella's relationship with her father was strong, and she knew the man couldn't help but feel protective over his only child. She was just happy that when she needed independence most, her father was more than willing to trust in his daughter's abilities.

* * *

A bit later, Isabella Murdoch leaned over the rail of the ship, content to let the sea air caress her long chestnut tresses while she watched the crew lay anchor. Her eyes passed over many sails representing the East India Trading Company, but took no further notice.

Womanhood had brought with it the gift of curves, although she would never be as blessed as most. In fact, Isabella had grown into a slender young lady, whose slight form was well-suited to climbing the rigging of ships, and swinging lithe as a cat onto enemy decks that dared attempt a boarding.

Her father was a bit concerned about this last, as Isabella was much too friendly for warfare. She didn't seem to have an innate sense of suspicion about people, although her judge of character had proved to be sturdy. Yes, Captain Murdoch had encouraged his daughter's love of books, but he worried now that the girl's practicality had suffered.

Isabella had been blessed with a feminine face, but the rest of her form was very easily hidden underneath the men's breeches, white tunic, and grey overcoat she now wore. If she tied up her hair and dirtied her face, she just _might_ have been able to pass for a very pretty lad.

Perhaps this was why she later so easily recognized another woman trying to hide in boyish attire.

A day had passed, the ship had been loaded, Isabella had made her errands in town, and now the crew was ready to cast off.

Isabella figured there was no harm in checking over the cargo once more (last time, someone had forgotten to tie down a crate of wine and the captain had been quite incensed), and so brought herself lightly down into the hold. She was thinking about the future, and her conversation earlier with her father. It was true, most people wanted to find a companion and settle down, but what did she want?

Isabella imagined herself years from now. Why couldn't she have the sea and a husband? They could sail together and strike down those who would do evil upon the seas. The ocean had been her home for as long as she could remember, and perhaps she could be content to stay on land for a year or two—but certainly not forever!

So lost in her thoughts was she, that it gave her quite the fright when she suddenly careened right into another person. Both latched onto the other to stay standing, and Isabella furrowed her brows in confusion at the person in front of her. They were dressed in men's attire, but they were quite obviously a woman. A glance behind the woman was even more puzzling. There, discarded on a crate, was a wedding dress!

Having followed Isabella's facial expression as she put the pieces together, the woman shoved her away with a threatening look.

Isabella hastily extended her arms. "Whoa, let's calm down. I'm not here to hurt you, and I'd like to assume that you're not here to hurt me. Are you trying to be a stowaway?"

The other woman narrowed her eyes, and Isabella sighed.

"Okay, listen, my name's Isabella. I'm a member of this crew, and if your intentions are honorable, I could always say I hired you on before we left. I've no stomach to see anyone hauled back to port, and our captain is a good man-he won't care if you're a lady or not."

Isabella knew how tough it could be for women on land, and if this one wanted to escape from Port Royal, then she was determined to help. She just hoped that the girl wasn't a pirate set out to kill them all, but they'd cross that bridge if they arrived at it—although a pirate with that fancy of a gown would have been an odd sight indeed.

The other woman squared her shoulders, as if coming to a decision.

"I'm Elizabeth," she said carefully, "and I'm only looking for passage."

Isabella nodded, brushing her hair back from her eyes. "Okay, Elizabeth. Let's take your dress to my cabin, tuck up your hair a bit better, and then I'll introduce you to the captain. He'll help you in any way that he can, I'm sure." With a wink she added, "He is my father, after all."

The two women had managed to slip into Isabella's cabin unseen, stow the dress, and head back up on deck with very little fuss. Isabella knocked politely before the women entered the captain's quarters.

Captain Murdoch took the news of a woman stowaway-turned crew with very little drama. However, the Murdochs agreed it may be best if Elizabeth's identity as a woman were kept between them for now, as they had just brought on some new hands they couldn't be entirely sure of. After all, if anyone had questions, they could always come see the captain himself. If Elizabeth seemed surprised at the welcome, she didn't show it. Perhaps this woman was used to making unusual allies.

"So, Miss Elizabeth," Captain Murdoch said with cheer, "tell us your story, and we'll see what we can do."

Elizabeth gave them a small smile, and proceeded to do exactly that. After the tales of Lord Cutler Beckett's cruelty, and the terrible bargain that Elizabeth and her fiancé had found themselves in, Captain Murdoch found he had no choice but to take the girl to Tortuga. He liked to hope that if his daughter were ever in trouble, others would lend her a hand as well. In any case, with the East India Trading Company's new reach, business would have been challenging at the other ports anyway.

It was decided that they would hang another hammock in Isabella's cabin for Elizabeth, and so after a bit of settling in, the girls found themselves taking their evening meal together in their shared quarters.

Isabella was always quite chatty, and she hoped Elizabeth wouldn't mind too much as she probed curiously, "So you mentioned your fiancé, Will. Tell me about him."

Elizabeth smiled softly, "Will is brave… and kind. He's the one who taught me how to wield a sword." Then she added conspiratorially, "and you know, I'm quite good at it."

Isabella laughed, "Oh, good, because I'm rubbish with a blade. Smaller ones, like daggers, are fine. Real swords, though? They make me feel clumsy. The blade I have now is the best I can do." Isabella pointed across the room to a long dagger in its sheath. "It's long enough to parry a sword usually, but lets me move more freely in a battle."

Elizabeth smiled, "maybe Will could make a sword that's easier to handle—he's a blacksmith."

Isabella nodded happily, "I'll have to come visit his shop when this is all over. A blacksmith," she teased, "with all of the Navy in Port Royal, I would have thought you'd marry a sailor."

Elizabeth gave a small grimace. "Actually, I was engaged to one for a while."

Neither of the women had ever had close female friends like this, and were quite enjoying themselves.

"Oh, come now! You can't leave it like that. There's _clearly_ a story there," Isabella urged.

Elizabeth looked off in thought. She began with telling her about the Commodore's proposal and her plummet from the cliff. After detailing kidnappings, curses, and being stranded on an island with Captain Jack Sparrow, she finally resolved her story with sigh. "James Norrington, one of the greatest men I've ever known. But, he's not a commodore anymore. After he freed me from our engagement, he lost his ship in a hurricane and resigned his post."

Isabella's eyes had gone wide at recognizing the name. This simply _had_ to be the same naval man she'd met all those years ago. It had been clear from Elizabeth's story that she had humiliated the Commodore. Despite finding the story incredibly sad, and wanting to know what had happened to Norrington, she kept it to herself. Instead she said, "Captain Jack Sparrow? The pirate? You know, he's the only pirate our captain genuinely likes. I think it's because Sparrow never really hurts people the way other pirates do."

Suddenly, it seemed that Elizabeth liked the Murdochs that much more.

* * *

When the _Faodail_ docked in the seedy port of Tortuga, the women set forth to search for any sign of Will Turner. The two had bonded in their shared time aboard Captain Murdoch's ship, and so Elizabeth was happy to allow Isabella to accompany her.

The lights flickered along the pathway, and somewhere down an alley they could hear a dog barking. They passed dirty street urchins and people in all manners of dress. It was hard to tell if some of the people had simply stolen the better items of clothing, or if it was reflective of their fall from grace.

Elizabeth was still dressed as a man, but Isabella left her hair down and kept her same breeches and overcoat. Isabella wasn't overly concerned about being noticed as a woman. Her crew would be milling about in Tortuga, and there were quite a few pirates and other types here that knew and respected her father. Captain Murdoch's station in the world was an odd one, to say the least.

The pair traveled through dingy streets, and despite having been here several times before, Isabella nearly lost her stomach at the powerful stench of the place. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth, and tried to take in their surroundings. Up ahead they could hear the loud sounds voices and music that signaled they were nearing the place's tavern.

The amount of people running around firing their pistols in apparent celebration, or rather intoxication, had Isabella ready to jump out of her skin. _Really! They must be more careful with those things!_ Isabella thought to herself, as she lightly shoved past a rather portly man swaying with pistol in hand.

Drawing closer into the dim glow of the lights within, they heard a raised voice, British English starkly apparent, "So am I _worthy_ to serve under Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Elizabeth and Isabella rushed forward at hearing the familiar name. The girls arrived just in time to see the owner of the voice raise a pistol toward their pirate acquaintance, "Or should I just kill you now?"

Elizabeth gasped, "It's James."

Isabella knew from the man's tattered Naval coat and ridiculously frayed wig just who she was referring to. Isabella knew a moment of despair seeing him this way.

They missed the rest of the conversation. It happened too fast for Isabella to take it all in, but suddenly a pistol was fired and a massive brawl exploded through the place. She and Elizabeth ducked just in time to miss the stool that went sailing over their heads.

They saw Norrington pull his blade, and with a nod to each other, the women unsheathed their own weapons and joined the fray at his side.

A man came barreling toward her and, hesitant to use her blade, Isabella sunk her fist into the man's nose with a crack. As the man spiraled away, she shook her hand with a hiss, trying desperately not to wonder if the crack had been her bones or his-especially as she felt the blood dripping from her hand.

Resolutely, Isabella decided she would use the back of her blade if she had to, but she would _not_ be throwing any more punches.

Isabella could see Elizabeth sword fighting marvelously on her left, and Norrington doing a passable job of staying upright in his drunken state.

In a sudden lull of the fighting, they found themselves surrounded. Norrington's bold claims of taking them all on had her mind doing somersaults trying to reconcile this man with the one she'd met eight years prior.

Elizabeth suddenly lunged forward, bottle in hand. Isabella could only gape in shock as her friend downed the bedraggled former Commodore.

Isabella hoped her friend had only done that to spare the man a sword in his belly.

She then watched sadly as the tavern's inhabitants picked up the poor man. When they began carrying him outside, she rushed to try and stop them. They were going to throw him in the pig sty!

Isabella darted forward, ahead of the crowd with a protest on her lips, as they released their cargo, "Now, hold on-" Unfortunately, the "cargo" careened right into her on his way to the mud, and Isabella found herself mired in the stuff. She'd had her breath knocked out of her by half of Norrington's body landing on her, and as she tried to inhale, the stench quickly made her wish she hadn't.

Isabella groaned as she lifted an arm to see that the mud clung to her, and briefly had a thought toward the cut on her hand. Would it become infected? The pigs came over to investigate, and she glared at them.

Elizabeth stepped forward, a look of surprise on her face. Both women looked over to the mud covered man. Still noticing he hadn't lifted his head, Isabella reached forward and pushed him up gently by the shoulder as Elizabeth crouched to help.

Norrington turned his face toward them and the sight of mud caking his face made both women disconcerted. They stared into the eyes of a man who had clearly hit rock bottom. The pain there shook Isabella to the core. He seemed surprised to see Elizabeth, once he recognized her, but he didn't speak. The women each grabbed an arm and hauled the man to his feet.

Noticing his mud-drenched companion, the man said briefly, "Thank you." Norrington didn't elaborate, so Isabella didn't know whether he had meant for trying to keep him from being thrown, or for helping him up. She didn't ask, but merely smiled.

No one noticed they were being watched.

The trio made their way to the docks, Elizabeth intent on finding Captain Jack Sparrow, which they did with relative ease. As Elizabeth and Jack were bantering/negotiating, Isabella was awkwardly patting the back of her smelly companion as he spewed his stomach's contents into the sea. To be fair, she reckoned that as far as the pig smell went, she and Norrington were equally smelly.

Suddenly thinking of the water canteen at her waist, she had a momentary wince at the thought of vomit and pig's mud, before uncapping it and pressing it into Norrington's hand. He gave her a momentary glance that she liked to think was in thanks, but he nevertheless took a hearty gulp. He kept the canteen in hand when she politely waved away his attempts at returning it.

Isabella resolutely ignored any jabs between Norrington and Jack Sparrow that ensued, figuring that there was a history between the two she knew nothing about.

It suddenly looked very much like Elizabeth and Norrington would be boarding _The Black Pearl_ , and Isabella bit her lip in thought-formulating a plan. She couldn't imagine the former Commodore on that ship, no matter what state the man was in now. Besides, it wasn't like her father would consent for her to join the pirate crew as well. No, she needed another way...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello once again, everyone! I'd like to shout out to all of my lovely reviewers! You guys have been awesome, and your comments really do help. If you read the one-shot I had posted a few days ago expecting it not to work, then you will recognize that in this chapter, with only minor changes. Please continue to let me know what you think :)  
**

 **NOTE: I went back and changed the last paragraph a bit from the last chapter. I had already written so much that was dependent upon them not boaring with Jack and Elizabeth, and the story felt like it was going to go dark a bit quicker than I would like. I kept reading back over my material and simply could not make it work, so I've included the update to that paragraph below.**

 **Disclaimer: I still own nothing you recognize, except maybe the OCs.**

* * *

 _ **Previously...**_

It suddenly looked very much like Elizabeth and Norrington would be boarding The Black Pearl, and Isabella bit her lip in thought-formulating a plan. She couldn't imagine the former Commodore on that ship, no matter what state he was in now. Besides, it wasn't like her father would consent for her to join the pirate crew as well. No, she needed another way…

* * *

Isabella waited patiently until Jack called their heading, before rushing forward and pulling the man to the side. "Captain Sparrow, sir." Isabella greeted politely, "I'm Isabella Murdoch—"

"Ah, Bella, darling! Finally ready to take me up on my offer? Hmm… your father won't like that." Jack interrupted, swinging his arm about her shoulders. Isabella recalled his "offer" for her to become a pirate. She had been quite young, and her father had been absolutely livid.

She tried her best to ignore his unsettling stare as she trudged on, "Actually, no. I'm hoping you'll release someone from their service. You hired that man," she pointed to Norrington, "and I'd rather he serve on my ship."

Jack gave her a calculating look, stroking his beard, "And what's in it for me, love?"

Isabella met his stare with a hard one of her own. "From what I gather, if you're going after this Davy Jones' heart, you'll be in quite significant danger. It might be beneficial for you to have another friendly ship sailing nearby, should you have any trouble."

In truth, Isabella didn't have the authority to order the _Faodail_ to help _The Black Pearl_ , but if even half of what Captain Sparrow had said about controlling the seas was true, then her father would be deeply concerned. Their ship's precarious position between crown and pirates could be shattered if the balance on the seas were to change. In any case, Isabella hoped her father would see the value in taking the threat seriously.

Jack's facial expression gave her the impression that he already knew how dangerous the journey would be. His face drew uncomfortably close. "And all you want in return is old Norry?"

She nodded. They had a deal.

Norrington made to board behind Elizabeth, but Jack's hand stopped him. "Ah-ah, mate. You're going with her." With hardly any explanation, and leaving behind a confused ex-Commodore, Jack sprang aboard the ship with his usual enthusiasm.

Turning to Norrington, Isabella held out her hand for a masculine handshake, "I'm Isabella Murdoch, and my father is captain of the _Faodail._ " She pointed over to where her ship was bobbing lightly by the dock. "I'll explain further back at the ship, but we're providing back-up for _The Pearl._ I don't like the sound of this chest."

* * *

As it happened, Isabella's father was willing to cast off on their journey despite only having been in port for such a short time. They'd managed to collect some coin, but Captain Murdoch agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry if this chest was the key to power over the seas.

"You were right coming to me about this, lass." Captain Murdoch said seriously.

Norrington was widely skeptical at the validity of Captain Sparrow's claims, but Captain Murdoch only stated ominously that he'd known Jack to be true before.

Now, Norrington had been dismissed to sort out his sleeping area, and Isabella and her father were alone.

"Isabella, who is this Norrington fellow? I understand about going after the chest, but why bring him aboard? And the two of you look like you've been rolling with the pigs!" Captain Murdoch asked, with a raised brow. He didn't realize how accurate that was.

Isabella sighed. "He's someone Elizabeth knew from Port Royal. He was a Commodore in the Royal English Navy until several months ago, as I understand it. We didn't expect to find him here, and then he enlisted for Captain Sparrow's crew. I persuaded the good captain to release him to serve with us instead." Isabella decided not to mention that she thought Norrington to be the same man she'd met and fawned over eight years ago-best not to have her father think she'd taken leave of her senses.

Murdoch clicked his tongue. "Ah, I recognize the name. "Scourge of Piracy" they called him, I believe. I can see why it would have been a bit strange to have him serve on a pirate ship." After a pause he continued decisively, "Well, I'll be glad to have him aboard if he has any bit of the old Commodore left in him. However, I won't have that stench on my ship. Go ahead, and get the two of you cleaned up."

Murdoch made shooing motions with his hands, and his daughter complied with a smile. Isabella would have to fetch Norrington and hope that he hadn't sullied his hammock yet. Since her father always made sure to bring aboard enough water at each port for her to have a bath, cleaning up would be much easier than it otherwise could have been. Still, best not to waste water. Isabella reckoned she was not nearly as dirty as her companion, and could take only a small bucket aside for herself and give him the tub.

* * *

Down in the crew's quarters, Isabella found Norrington sitting on a barrel, an acquired bottle of rum in his hand. She marked the rum for future reference—the crew would have to make sure to keep him away from it. Her father didn't abide drunkards on his ship.

Giving the man a small wave, she approached to stand right in front of him. "Hello there. How are you feeling?"

Norrington looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "Marvelous. Exactly like I've been hit over the head with a bottle of rum and then tossed to the hogs." Sarcasm continued to drip from his words, "Oh but tell me, how are you? I'm sure you're doing well since you dragged me on this ship without so much as a 'by your leave.'"

Isabella gave him a glare and responded in kind, "I'm sorry that you find yourself on a nice respectable vessel instead of a bloody pirate ship for this journey, Mr. Norrington." She didn't give him a chance to respond as she said, "I'll forgive you your tone, but neither of us are forgiven for this smell. Captain's ordered us to scrub ourselves clean. So, are you coming?"

Norrington stood to follow her without gracing her with a response. Isabella took a deep breath for patience and led the way. She'd overlook his grouchiness at the moment, but as soon as he'd had a bath and sobered up, she expected a bit more politeness. After all, she felt _sure_ that the respectable Commodore had to be in there somewhere. She hoped.

Once inside her chambers, where the tub had been set up for her, she quickly grabbed a pail and drew some of the water out.

Beckoning to the items as she went along, Isabella stated neutrally, "There's the tub you'll be using, over there are some clothes until I can get our current ones clean, and here's a block of soap and scented oil. Do be sure to use the oil, or we'll never be rid of this smell."

Norrington made to grab the items, and then asked almost as an afterthought, "Are you not to bathe as well?"

Isabella smiled, happy that he didn't seem determined to be pointlessly rude. "I'll take the bucket and use it. I didn't get quite as dirty." She didn't bother to say that he'd been dirty _before_ he was tossed in the muck.

Norrington nodded. Isabella thought he looked rather eager to get clean now that he was at the tub. She couldn't blame him.

Taking the bucket, and a smaller vial of oil and some soap for herself, she left the cabin to seek out a bathing spot behind some crates in the hold. With a lantern to provide light, she made quick work of scrubbing away the muck and massaging the scented oil into her skin. It was one of her more expensive luxuries to have the rose oil, but Isabella couldn't quite feel like herself without it.

She quickly changed into her clean clothing, and let out a contented sigh. Moments where she got to be clean were not as frequent as she liked, and so she made sure to relish each and every one.

Isabella headed above deck to wait until Norrington was finished with his own bath. She wondered what exactly he'd gone through to turn him so sour. He was definitely the man she'd met years ago, but he was so starkly changed that it nearly hurt to see him. She figured he must have been a man who prided himself on his good deeds and station, if Elizabeth's recounting was anything to judge by. To lose that… she understood why he'd looked so broken.

Isabella felt foolish that she'd taken him aboard the ship without asking him first. She sighed at herself and her naivety. She always felt like she knew what was best for someone else, although her father told her that such thinking was often rude. She just wanted to help Norrington, it didn't matter that she didn't really know him. Isabella liked to think that she would have helped him even if Elizabeth hadn't told her his background. She wondered if that would really be the case.

The sound of footsteps roused her from her introspection. Standing beside her was a man who looked much more improved than she'd seen him an hour earlier. She hadn't remembered to give him a razor, so his beard was still giving him a rugged appearance, but the dark soot and muck were all washed away.

If she was honest, Isabella would have said Norrington looked quite dashing.

Ignoring her heart's sudden increase in activity, Isabella smiled, "Looks like a bit of washing up was good for the both of us. Where are your other clothes? I'll set them to soak with mine before we turn in."

"I left them on the side of the washtub. Thank you for the bath, and for the clothes." Norrington scratched somewhat nervously behind his neck and continued, "I…was rude to you earlier. I apologize."

Isabella beamed at him, "I accept your apology, and your thanks." After a glance up at the dark sky, she added, "It's getting quite late, so I think I'd best head to my chambers. Just knock if you should need anything." She clasped his shoulder on her way past, happy that his mood seemed a bit improved.

Isabella wondered if he'd still be in good spirits when he found out the crew had locked away their rum and tossed his overboard.

* * *

It was a beautiful day! Pale blue skies, and no matter how hard she tried, Isabella couldn't spot a cloud in sight. As the freckles on her nose likely indicated, Isabella would never tire of the sun. A gentle breeze floated over the deck and carried the scent of her bathing oils to her nose. The source? A rather roguish-looking man who certainly smelled loads better today than he had last night.

James Norrington looked a bit lost as he gazed out over the waves to the _Black Pearl_ ahead of them. Isabella remembered the history between he and Elizabeth, and she wondered if the longing look in his eye had something to do with her friend. Suddenly determined to get this man engaged in something else, Isabella returned quickly to her room for her brush and a black hair ribbon.

"Good day, James." Isabella greeted with a smirk. He'd not given her permission to use his given name, but she felt it justified after the grief he'd given her last night.

James glanced over at her neutrally. "Good day, Miss Murdoch."

Shaking her head in the negative, "I'm afraid that just won't do. We're all friends aboard the _Faodail_ , my good sir. I insist you call me Isabella."

James conceded with a hesitant nod. "Very well then, Isabella. What can I do for you?"

Isabella thought that his tone didn't suggest he necessarily wanted to be helpful, but she figured that might be because she'd tossed all of his rum overboard—but really, as if they welcomed drunkards aboard the _Faodail_!

Taking his arm in hers, she began to lead him to the steps of the upper deck. "Well, we got your bathing taken care of, but now it's time for that hair to be a bit tidier, don't you think?"

They were nearly to the steps when he stopped resolutely, having caught sight of the brush.

"Mi—Isabella, I assure you that I can brush my hair just fine, thank you!"

"Oh, I'm sure you can James, except I'd like to do it for you. It'll be relaxing! I'll show you!" She grabbed him by the hand and tugged him down in front of her. "I promise I'll be gentle." She was grinning widely, but James felt that she wasn't being unkind.

He sighed. "There's no stopping you, is there?"

She gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Now you've got the right idea."

Isabella untied the tattered ribbon from his hair, and slowly began to massage his scalp. He really did have such marvelous dark hair. If only it had more care, she knew it would be silky and soft.

James tried his best not to recline into her touch. He'd never had someone massage his scalp before, and it was all he could do not to completely relax—or even worse, moan with the pleasure of it. As such, he focused on keeping a resolutely grouchy look on his face, lest the other crew members take notice.

As it was, it soon became apparent that they had a bit of attention. Edward, or "Cutlass" as he was better known, was one of the younger crewmembers. He had cropped black hair, and a fine tan. His nose looked altogether too large on his face, and his smile was crooked. However, the boy was quiet and obedient. He'd been unable to read or write when he first joined, but he was a fast learner. Captain Murdoch discovered the boy had a talent for art, and made sure to encourage him to "document our grand journey on perilous seas" or something to that effect.

James noticed that the boy had his charcoal in hand, and was sketching away furiously, every few moments glancing up at Isabella and him. _Great, now my shame will be immortalized in a drawing._

Isabella gently brushed through James' hair, making extra sure not to hurt him. She was sure that James was enjoying himself whether he admitted it or not. She could feel him subconsciously leaning back into her, and his shoulders were relaxed. Drawing the hair back, she added a tiny braid into the middle before sweeping it all back to the nape of his neck. She tied the ribbon securely and admired how much neater he looked already.

Isabella almost had the urge to hug him, but she felt sure that James could only suffer so many liberties being taken with his person.

* * *

Later that evening, Isabella heard a light knock on her cabin door. Curious, she wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and peeked into the hallway. Outside her room, looking utterly bashful, was Cutlass. He clutched a piece of drawing paper to his chest before holding it out with both hands. "Miss Isabella?" He said nervously. The boy had steadfastly refused to remove the "miss" from the front of her name no matter how many times she corrected him, and so she had eventually come to find it rather sweet.

"I hope you don't mind…I drew a picture of you and the Commodore earlier. You looked really happy, and I think you should have it." At this, Cutlass gave a hopeful smile.

Gingerly taking the paper from the boy's hands (he was only a few years younger than she, but he still had that air of boyhood around him), Isabella turned it over and couldn't resist a smile.

The picture was really quite a work of art, even if only in charcoal. Cutlass had captured the hair brushing scene perfectly, and Isabella found even the grumpy expression on James' face to be rather sweet. In the image, she had James' hair clutched delicately in both hands while leaning over his shoulder to whisper something into his ear. Isabella couldn't deny it: she really did look happy there.

"Cutlass, this is marvelous! How can I ever thank you? I'll have to find a nice gift for you at the next port for sure!" Isabella already had an idea in her mind for the gift—she would purchase better parchment, or perhaps a canvas and further art supplies.

Cutlass scuffed his boot, embarrassed at the praise, but beaming nonetheless.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well everyone, I'm sure you thought this was abandoned! Never fear, I have every intention of finishing this story. As I get reviews, I continually update my master copy of this story and edit/change things as I go along. I graduated university, moved across the country, and in the process of some big life changes. Hopefully I'll be on a regular update schedule soon.  
**

 **Also, you may notice that I will now begin moving away from canon and taking some liberties with the story as we go along. Anyway, let me know what you like or don't like as we continue, and feel free to reach out to me through my inbox on here, or on Instagram-BrookieC95.**

* * *

"Forgive me, but why did you request that I sail with you instead of on _The Black Pearl_?" James asked curiously.

The two were perched on opposite quilt-covered wooden chests, playing a round of cards in Isabella's cabin. It seemed that James was finally settling in a bit, and so his relationship with the crew and their captain was growing by day. In fact, Captain Murdoch had originally been included in their current card game, but had left some time ago to leave the two to their own devices.

James had been rather nervous at such an intimate arrangement, but at Captain Murdoch's jovial laugh and pointed, "My lass has a knife in her boot, I'm sure," there hadn't been anything to add. Captain Murdoch had the utmost faith in his daughter, and saw fit to let her handle herself as she pleased—a particular novelty of the times.

Finally responding to James' question after a moment of thoughtful consideration, Isabella spoke with mock seriousness. "Why, James Norrington, surely it's obvious that I was so allured by your handsome muck-covered self, that I couldn't let you be!" James was startled for a moment, eyes widening, but quickly caught on to the jest in her hazel eyes.

"Somehow I find that I don't quite believe you, Isabella." James gave her an amused glance before unfolding his winning hand with a flourish.

Isabella frowned at having lost at cards again, but continued, "Hmmm… I suppose you're right. After all, there was no trace of a handsome man at all until we got you cleaned up. You certainly smell better." She winked.

She paused and grew more serious, but James got the impression that she was merely organizing her thoughts.

"You know by now that Elizabeth and I are friends, but I don't think you've been informed of how that happened exactly." Isabella continued, "Elizabeth dressed as a man and sailed on our ship from Port Royal. I discovered her secret, and the short of it is that we became fast friends. In truth, I get the feeling that neither of us had ever had much in the way of female friends we could truly confide in—so our match was quite fortunate."

James nodded. He had to admit that while Elizabeth had been friendly with the other girls her age, she'd seemed much too free-spirited to get very close to any of them. Now that it was brought to his attention, he could see the similarities between Isabella and Elizabeth. Both were very fierce in their freedom, and both held little appreciation for social graces. Or rather, perhaps Isabella only lacked skill at social graces. Still, the similarity unnerved him.

Isabella hesitated a moment before taking particular interest in her cards, "We had a lot of time to talk, and so I know about everything that's happened… As well as your engagement."

James' eyes seemed to glint with both anger and pain at the mention of his humiliation, and couldn't help but clench his teeth as he studied his shoes. Suddenly he ground out, "I suppose you found that so _entertaining_ , that you thought you'd see my ruin up close."

Isabella's eyes widened and a panicked look came over her face at his wrong conclusion. She would have to remember to be more careful with her words. She sat forward quickly, forgetting her cards, and grasped him lightly by the arms—urging him to look up at her. "No! No, James, that's not it at all. Please, I promise, that's not the case." James looked up at her, and she continued. "Elizabeth confided in me, and I confided in her, but because of that, I know more about her. Understand her somewhat, even. I didn't think it would be a good idea for you to be on their ship, because I was worried what she might do. She's a good person, she is, but I'm not sure if she really understands her heart right now. She wouldn't have meant to hurt you, but after she told me what happened—and seeing her with Jack Sparrow, I didn't think it right that you be placed in an even worse position."

Isabella was telling the truth, and now that she had gotten to know James more, she was even surer in her decision. Elizabeth had felt horrible recounting simmering feelings for Captain Sparrow, and Isabella had done her best to be the ear that her friend had needed. However, Elizabeth's ex-fiancé had already been spurned once, and it wouldn't do for his heart to be further tortured. Isabella remembered feeling as though Commodore Norrington had been treated rather unfairly, but she had never imagined that they would encounter him on Tortuga.

"Besides," Isabella whispered with a crinkle of her nose, "An ex-Commodore of the Royal British Navy serving on a pirate ship? Perish the thought."

James nodded once, wiping the shocked look off of his face with a short laugh, and then they both seemed to find their situation awkward. Isabella felt a bit embarrassed, and slid back into her spot, relinquishing James' arms. Finally James sighed, "Perhaps, you are correct…I appreciate your consideration." James didn't know what he felt. He knew he still loved Elizabeth, and the sorriest part of it all was that if she had shown any interest, he would have fallen again—whether she was earnest or not. Worse still, if he'd been forced to watch Elizabeth throwing herself at her fiancé or, god forbid, _Sparrow_ , he'd have wished to have been left in Tortuga.

* * *

It was the third day of following in the _Pearl's_ general wake, and Isabella found herself wondering if Captain Sparrow even knew where he was going. It felt like they were traveling aimlessly, constantly sticking to the shallows and dragging out the journey.

In order to pass the time, she had spent the morning tidying her quarters, but truthfully there hadn't been much to clean up besides straightening quilts and their card area. When she came above deck, she could see the crew relaxing, playing cards, or other pleasure activities. There was nothing to be done for the moment, and Isabella knew the captain saw no reason to deny the crew their pastimes.

Isabella spotted James, seated in the shade of the stairs, looking every bit lost in thought as he stared out at the gentle waters. Feeling as if they both needed a distraction, Isabella approached James and greeted him with a light tap on the nose. The man looked bewildered.

"Good morning, James!" Isabella said brightly, ignoring the affronted look she was receiving. "Would you like to play a game of cards?"

James looked at her sidelong, "I believe I shall have to pass." He had been thinking about his past in the Navy, and wondering if he would ever feel in control of his life again. Without his commission he felt empty. He'd been serving the crown and upholding justice on the seas for most of his life. Now, what was his purpose?

 _Ah,_ Isabella thought, _he's still feeling a bit down. Best not to let him dwell on it, I figure he would have had plenty of time for that in Tortuga._

Paying no heed to the man's mood, she clapped when an idea came to her. "Oh, James, please come with me! I must show you something."

She snatched his hand, and James didn't resist being dragged along, restraining a groan at this girl's cheerfulness. He did wonder if she had lost her mind to be so familiar with a strange bachelor on her father's ship. Neither the crew nor her father seemed to give them any notice at all however, and James felt a bit affronted at their combined lack of propriety.

Isabella gently tugged him along until they reached her cabin. James felt a pang of nervousness in this brash girl's presence. He may have been spending his most recent time in seedy Tortuga, but he still had a sense of morals! Releasing his hand, and oblivious to her companion's turmoil, Isabella quickly fetched Cutlass' drawing from the day before and held it out.

"I forgot to show it to you when you were here last night," she said.

James turned the picture over in his hands and had to admit that it was quite well done. "I saw one of the crew drawing this… Cutlass is his name? He's got a talent for it." The image encouraged a smile at the corner of his lips as he saw himself depicted so sourly alongside the joyful Isabella.

Their attention was taken off of the photograph by a head suddenly popping around the doorframe. It was one of the crew.

The man gave a teasing grin, "'Scuse me, Isabella, Captain sent me to find our friend here. Captain Murdoch would like a word with you in his cabin, mate."

James straightened up and handed the photo back to Isabella. "Right then, I'll not keep him waiting. If you'll excuse me." This last he said with a nod in her direction.

Isabella gestured him to the door, a bit curious about what her father had to say, "Of course, I'll find you later."

* * *

James arrived in front of the Captain's door promptly, curious as to what he had been summoned for. He knocked politely, and entered upon hearing Captain Murdoch's welcome.

When he entered the room, he let his eyes sweep over the room. Last time he had been in the Captain's quarters, he had been too preoccupied to take in his surroundings. Now, he noticed the mismatched furniture and other belongings. It seemed that the room was an amalgamation of pieces from around the world. A sturdy bookshelf made of darkened, almost black, wood seemed to have carvings from one of the far Eastern cultures all along its face. James noticed that no two pieces of furniture even remotely resembled each other. They were in all shades, from an obscene number of cultures. Even the books seemed to have different languages along their binding.

Other curios, such as faded maps, tapestries, and quilts were displayed or scattered about the room. Despite the immense amount of items in the room, James had to admit that it was far from untidy, and all seemed to have a place.

Finally, James managed to drag his eyes away from the Captain's rainbow of belongings. The Captain himself was reclined in a chair, an amused look about him. It appeared James' appraisal of the room had not gone unnoticed.

With a slight bow, James addressed the man. "Sir, you wished to see me."

Captain Murdoch waved invitingly at a chair across from his own. "Aye, I did. Take a seat, lad." Murdoch then reached to his side and pulled forth a decanter of amber liquid—whiskey. He then pulled two crystal glasses forward and poured a finger's worth in each.

James seated himself, a bit uncertain, but accepted the glass that was pressed into his hand.

Captain Murdoch took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes and truly appreciating the flavor. "Ah, it reminds me of home. Ever had good whiskey like this before, son?"

James took a sip of his own at the question, and made sure to take his time tasting it. It was of an obvious high quality, although James didn't care highly for the stuff in truth.

"I can't say that I'm well cultured in whiskey, I'm afraid." James answered honestly. Nevertheless, James continued to sip from his glass.

Captain Murdoch watched the man next to him, as if trying to solve a complicated puzzle. "Well, the reason I called you in here was for more of a social call than any great matter. You've been with our crew a few days, and you work hard. I admire that. I reckon it's also in your favor that Isabella and the rest of the crew seem to like you just fine. What I'm trying to get at, is that you're more than welcome to join the crew for a longer term—but there's no need to decide right away."

James found himself a bit speechless. In truth, he hadn't really considered his future. His time on Tortuga had placed him in a spiral of hopelessness. Could he just move on so easily? Joining this crew meant giving up most of his former life—although he supposed it was already gone anyway. Still yet, he ached deeply to restore what he'd lost. He missed his post, the men he'd come to know during his command, the prestige, but most of all the feeling that he was serving a greater cause.

"Thank you, Captain, I'll consider it." James took another sip of his whiskey with a nod.

The Captain looked pleased that James hadn't dismissed him outright. With a grin, Captain Murdoch waved a hand toward an ivory chess set in the corner.

"Do you play? What do you say to a little challenge?"

James smirked. "You might be in for a bit more than a little challenge."

"Oh ho ho! Don't be so confident yet, boy." Captain Murdoch laughed jovially and thought that having the former Commodore around was getting better everyday.

* * *

Several hours after the Captain's chat, Isabella and James had already seen to cleaning the deck together, had their evening meal, and were once again in her cabin, this time thoroughly discussing some of the books she had on hand. James was appalled to hear that she had very little affection for Shakespeare, and she was equally affronted that he did not appreciate some of the Scottish poetry that she had collected. However, they both settled on a mutual respect for the _Leviathan_.

They were so engrossed in their discussion, that a knock at the door startled them both. Isabella quickly skipped to the door. Outside was another crew member, a man as old as her father, with patchy gray hair that stuck up in all places. He preferred to simply be called Thoms, and he was much like a favorite uncle to Isabella. The man had been a part of the crew since as long as she had memory, and she had never seen him not smiling—in fact, Isabella reckoned he must smile in his sleep too.

"There ya been, Lassie! Ya can't be keeping the lad to yourself now, or you'll miss the party!" At that, Thoms ambled right in and scooped poor James up and over his shoulder before calling to Isabella, "come along, Lassie!"

Isabella did not miss the look of absolute horror on James' face as he was hauled out the door, and she did her best not to laugh as she followed them onto the deck. She reckoned that a tall man like James had never been manhandled in such a way.

Isabella paused to admire the transformation to the deck. The lanterns were lit, casting a golden glow over the ship. Isabella could see several of the crew reclining on the railing, bottles in hand.

Isabella saw the rest of the crew looking around in anticipation, and Isabella knew the party would be starting soon. She'd forgotten all about the crew's regular celebrations. Seeing James righted on his feet once again, she rushed over and delivered her apologies, sincerely.

"I'm really sorry, James. Thoms can get a bit carried away. Are you alright?"

James glared in the direction Thoms had stalked off to and fiercely righted his rumpled clothing. "My pride has suffered, but I believe I am otherwise unharmed."

He looked around, noticing everyone seeming to wait for something. Suddenly, a screech filled the air and he recognized the jubilant sounds of a violin. He spotted a red-haired sailor he didn't know, playing the instrument quickly and spinning in elaborate circles. The music was the type one might expect to hear in a tavern—perhaps even in Tortuga, and similarly, the crew members all began to jump about with elaborate hoots, and spin each other around.

James felt someone grab his hand and he looked down into joyful hazel eyes. "James," Isabella spoke excitedly, "won't you dance with me?"

James could see the woman nearly bouncing in place, and said exasperatedly, "I hardly know how to dance to such music!"

Isabella grasped his other hand as well. "Please? There are no right or wrong steps. It's all about having fun, and I promise I'll show you."

James mentally kicked himself when he found that he couldn't say no.

"Very well then, but if you have two left feet, then I'll be forced to resort to drastic measures." His mouth barely betrayed the quirk at the edge of his lips, but Isabella smiled beatifically.

"I accept your terms, my good sir." Isabella said with exaggerated pomp before allowing herself to be grasped in his arms. Isabella knew they would need a bit more freedom to move, but figured they could begin like this.

Isabella clasped his hand, and pointing their joined hands out together, she winked, "follow me." James appeared a bit startled when she bounced them forward in the direction of their hands and rocked them back.

James had more than a little trouble surrendering to her lead, so she just let the music take them where it willed. Isabella had heard from Elizabeth that the man held himself in a stiff manner, and apparently even a drunken stint on Tortuga hadn't cured him of it.

James found that after a while, he was mildly enjoying himself. As Isabella continued to twirl around him before spinning softly into his arms, he was forced to admit that she was an alluring companion. This thought brought a flash of unjustified guilt to his mind as he thought of Elizabeth.

Where Elizabeth could hold herself poised and elegant at social affairs, Isabella was all fluid motions and totally at ease. Isabella didn't seem like the caged bird that Elizabeth was. Elizabeth's fire and rebellious streak were clearly absent in the chestnut-haired girl's soft demeanor.

James found himself taking more notice of dancing hazel eyes, and joyous smiles as the night went on, and for a moment he thought he might have been happy.


End file.
